The Bright Moon Shines on the Lonely Star

This was never a revenge story. It's how the broken mirror reflects the whole world, It is how the rusty gears push the stars to rotate. When the cricket no longer holds the lamp for the prison, When the puppet finally has to pull the strings for himself—— The Tao is in the ants, the Tao is in the barnyard grass, and the Tao is in the tiles. The Tao is present in every pair of hands trying to lift up history.